The Huntress and the Hunter
by GenesisArclite
Summary: One day, shortly before the War of Transgression, Vanille decides to go hunting alone, and discovers a mysterious, powerful warrior on the plains... along with much more trouble than she was looking for. Slight Caius x Vanille.


_**The Huntress and the Hunter**_

Oerba Dia Vanille stared at the jars and near-empty meat locker sadly. It was a beautiful morning, the air smelling sweet and the breeze blowing through the open windows as if the whole world were trying to give her a hug, birds singing and the lake lapping at the shore. Unfortunately, all she could think about was breakfast.

It was likely the harvesters and hunters would bring some stuff later, but she was hungry _now_, and really didn't want to wait.

The jars contained clumps of pink berries, which didn't look appetizing, and the meat locker smelled of spices and smoked chocobo. Both smells made her mouth water, despite the fact that she didn't like the spiced meat sitting in the corner, right before her stomach growled loudly.

"Oh, hush, you," she said, patting her belly. "We'll go hunting and find some fruit, okay? It'll be good for us. The morning is always the best time to go out!" She closed the meat locker and the cabinet, returning to her part of the house to put on proper clothes for where she planned to go this lovely morning. Slipping out so the other residents of the shared household didn't wake up, she hurried down the stairs and headed for the village outskirts. The air already felt warm and a little sticky – it would be a hot, humid summer day, she could tell.

"Hey look, an escapee."

Vanille squeaked softly and stopped in her tracks. "Oh. Hi, Fang. Uh… morning."

Her best friend was leaning on a stone wall and staring at her knowingly. She should have known she wouldn't be able to escape the other woman's notice. "So, where do you think you're off to?"

"Um…" Vanille hesitated and brushed a hand across her skirt. "Well, I was just going to go off hunting. Just to the plains and back." Hesitating again, she rubbed her palm across her hip, where she'd hung a small pouch. "I'm hungry, and I don't want day-old spiced meat that's so full of that Haerii spice that it gives me a headache all day. I want fresh meat!"

Fang grunted and folded her arms. "You mean like gorgon meat?"

"What's wrong with gorgon meat?"

"It's fatty and sweet."

Vanille faced her and planted both fists in her hips. "So what?"

"Little old for that, dontcha think?"

Vanille started to make a retort before she realized Fang was trying not to smirk. "Oh, you're terrible. I'm also going to look for some fruit. Nothing like fresh fruit in the morning." Patting her rod with one hand, she flashed her friend a quick, bright smile, then turned and started off. The sun was above the horizon now, and the sky was bright blue and perfectly clear. Birds sang, insects buzzed loudly everywhere, and there were so many puffballs floating through the air that one hit her right in the face and exploded. Stopping, she coughed and spit it out.

"Sure you don't want me along?"

The redhead glared over her shoulder. "I'm sure. Stop trying to find–" Finding a seed stuck in her teeth, she stopped, working her tongue around behind her lips to try and wriggle it out. Eventually, it popped free, and she spit it as far as she could. It was a little damp, but still caught the breeze and floated away.

"I dunno." Fang walked down the steps leading to the lakeshore and looked smug. "You're already gettin' attacked by puffballs. I heard the ones further west bite."

Vanille resisted the urge to march over to her and punch her shoulder. Instead, she looked around a moment, letting the lake breeze wash over her. The lake was beautiful right now, rippling a bit, probably from where the river spilled into it further away. Underfoot, the shore was sandy and soft, while the trees lining the balcony overlooking the lake were in full bloom, the air heavy with their thick, sweet scent. Oerba looked beautiful in the spring, especially when it was surrounded by flowers like it was now.

Flowers she was sometimes allergic to, but whatever.

Fang walked up to her. "Well, alright, if you're gonna be so stubborn about it, I'll let you go. Not exactly safe, but hey, I'd be a hypocrite if I tagged along."

Vanille chuckled. Fang herself had run off alone plenty of times to go hunting or harvesting. It was Oerban policy not to go off alone, but it wasn't exactly enforced, and as far as adults went, like Vanille, if you got stuck out in the wilderness up against some really tough monsters, you were on your own. She knew she was tough enough to take on most everything alone, so she wasn't worried.

"Thanks." Smiling and mock-saluting, Vanille turned, checked to make sure her binding rod was secure, and trotted off. Just past the hill to the south of the village were some amazing hunting grounds were just about everything went to grab a bite to eat. Other tribes often went there, as well, so she might make some new friends or run into some old ones. Trade season hadn't started yet – there was no telling what she might find.

Partway up the hill, she paused to look over her home. There weren't a lot of people awake this early, but those that were out and about were busy setting up fishing implements, working on the rail line, or getting ready to go out hunting themselves. The school would go unused for the rest of the summer throughout trade season, since everyone knew how hard it was to keep kids still when more interesting things were going on.

Fang was also long gone, not even visible as a dark blue-and-brown speck against all the green. Satisfied, Vanille turned and continued on.

The plains that stretched out before her were strikingly beautiful. Endless waves of grass dotted with wildflowers painted the ground from horizon to horizon, bordered by deep valleys, a canyon, and cliffs gouged by time and the local fal'Cie landscapers. Here and there, enormous rock formations jutted out of the ground, thick with moss, some with wildflowers and ivy hanging off of them. A waterfall tumbled down a cliff in the distance. The smell of wet earth and sun-warmed clay coupled with the smell of flowers to cloud the air with a scent that she knew had to be as close to heavenly as anyone could get.

From where she stood, she could see gorgons racing around, chasing a behemoth, while chocobos fed in the distance in a flock easily two dozen thick. Some sheep wandered about. Raptors wheeled in the sky, casting fast-moving shadows across the plains. The breeze blew in her face; puffballs floated lazily along it. Way in the distance, a herd of oretoises dotted the horizon, perfectly content where they were. A trio of flan oozed about to her left.

Vanille hesitated, not sure where to go. There were so many options, from chewy flan to sweet, fatty gorgon meat to raptors to chocobos.

What she had come here for, though, was gorgon meat, so she decided to start with that.

Again checking her rod, she turned and circled along the edge of the plain. This morning, she had put on an outfit that was all greens and varied patterns of dark and light hues with dots of color, which would help her look more like the plains and wildflowers. To help hide her hair, she had slipped a green bandana over it and pulled it behind her head, although she couldn't keep shocks of it from spilling out around her face and shoulders.

If she moved slowly and stayed focused, she could pick off a gorgon.

She'd done it before.

There was no one else around, as far as she could tell – no shepherds, no other hunters, no one at all. That was fine with her, as it wouldn't become a competition. Keeping low, she let the tall, thick grass and flowers blur her outline, one hand on her binding rod, ready to pull it free at the right time. The pack of gorgons consisted of four adults and three juveniles, not paying attention to her approach.

She stopped and dropped to one knee, scanning the pack. The smallest adult kept being nudged away from the pack by a stocky male, growling whenever it got too close again. Vanille figured that one would be the best target and quickly formulated a plan to separate it from the others. If she could distract it without alerting the rest of them, she would be able to snag it and take it down. A close-range blow would kill it, and there would be fresh gorgon meat for dinner.

The pack began to move away; the small one was forced to trail behind the rest. The big male, apparently the alpha of the pack, kept it away with soft growls.

Vanille picked up a small stone by her feet, waited until the alpha moved away, and pitched it.

It struck the hide of the small one; snorting softly, it paused and turned its head. The rest of the pack didn't seem to care, moving on through the grass. Biting her lip, she whistled softly, sounding like a prey bird. The gorgon pricked its tiny ears and began to stalk her through the grass.

Vanille backed away, careful to make just enough noise for it to hear her. Slowly, the gorgon moved away from the others and out of range of their support.

Once she was sure there was enough distance, she stood. "Hey, you," she said with a smirk, "why don't you come and get me already?"

There was no denying the look of shock on the animal's face upon seeing her, but it passed quickly, and the gorgon snarled and sprang at her. Dodging it, she unfurled her rod and threw out the hooks, which embedded in the side of the animal and tugged it to the ground. The gorgon yelped and struggled to stand, but she tore out the hooks, swung them around, and tried again. This time, the animal flopped on its side, and she hurried up, pulling a dagger out of her pocket, and drove the blade in at the most efficient point. The gorgon yelped and fell silent.

"There," she sighed, "much better!"

Then she heard the sounds of growling and yelping and looked up.

The pack of gorgons had turned her way, bounding through the grass. Vanille groaned, wishing they hadn't done this today, but took out her binding rod again and unfurled the hooks. She'd had to deal with vengeful packs before, and this would be no different. Besides, there weren't that many of them.

As she lashed out, wanting to drive them away rather than kill them, a spear sailed through the air and pierced one of the adults in the side, pinning it to the ground.

She froze. "Oh, of _course_!"

The owner of the spear appeared out of nowhere, springing up out of the grass. Moving so fast and so gracefully that he was practically a blur, he grabbed his spear and turned on the rest of the pack, mimicking the angry cries of a larger predator, startling the survivors and making them stumble over themselves in fear. Annoyed, Vanille stood and threw herself into the fray. So much for not having a competition.

"I got this!" she insisted, and threw out the hooks. They snagged one animal in the foreleg and yanked it over, where it squealed in terror and tried to stand.

"I was stalking this herd first, if you don't mind." Her surprise companion spoke in a deep, strong voice befitting his height, and he glanced at her from a few feet away. "If anything, _you_ were interrupting _my_ hunt."

Vanille risked a longer look at him. He was taller than her with dark hair, dark eyes, and tanned skin. The armor he wore was weird, all metal, leather, and synthetic webbing, dark blue, purple, and matte black in color, and it looked hot and uncomfortable. It didn't seem to bother him, though, as he returned to his work.

"Go away!" she shouted. "You're _not_ helping!"

The man hefted his spear, easily as long as he was tall. "Not now!"

Vanille growled in frustration and proceeded to chase another of the gorgons away. At last, the pack turned tail and ran through the grass, yipping and leaving the scent of blood in their wake. Before making sure they were gone, she hurried back to her kill and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing it still there and untouched. She dragged it into the shadow of one of the rock formations and folded grass over it, disguising its presence, then stood and looked around for her mysterious new acquaintance. He stood over his kill, apparently examining it.

Sighing, she walked up behind him. "You interrupted my hunt," she said.

The man looked at her. "It looked like you needed help."

"What, just because a vicious pack of teeth and claws were coming after me?" Returning her binding rod to its holster at her back, she placed her other hand on her hip and cocked it. "Oh, come on. I'm a huntress. I think I can handle _anything_ Gran Pulse throws at me."

Lifting an eyebrow, he didn't look so sure. "Is that some sort of challenge?"

She raised both eyebrows. "Should it be?"

He grunted – a deep, powerful sound that came right from his chest. Vanille tilted her head, thinking that he had to be some sort of great hunter or warrior. The feathers in his hair told her he was good at whatever he did.

"I doubt you could keep up," he said.

"Should we bet on that?"

"Were you not a bit busy, taking care of your kill?"

She shrugged. "It'll still be there. But enough of that. What's your name? Who _are_ you?"

He looked surprised. "Do you not know me?"

She hummed for a second, looking him over. Despite his distinct purple color scheme, he didn't exactly trigger any feelings of familiarity. "Pretend I have absolutely no clue about anything," she said, shifting her weight to cock the other hip. "Come on, now, you save a girl's life and won't even tell her your _name_?"

He gazed steadily at her. "My name is Caius."

The name sounded familiar, extremely familiar, but she couldn't put a finger on it. "Okay. What were you doing out here, bothering people?"

"I was here before you, and I watched you circle around toward the pack," he said. "You make so much _noise_."

She stared at him. "I do not."

Turning back to his kill, he holstered his spear on his back, picked up the gorgon, and slung it across both shoulders with little effort. Vanille did her best to look unimpressed. "I shall do more hunting," he said. "If you do not want me to 'interrupt' another of yours, I suggest you go elsewhere."

Vanille didn't really want to deal with him anymore, but there were some areas up here where she could find some delicious fruit. It would be worth accidentally running into him again if she took a small detour to grab what she had come up here to get. The gorgon would be fine if she left it alone. Crossing the plain, collecting some fruit, and getting back to Oerba shouldn't take more than a half hour at most. Patting the pouch at her side, she turned away from him and started to walk.

"I see you are determined," she heard him say. "What is your name?"

Vanille rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder, saying, "Vanille of Oerba." She smiled, then continued onward without another backward glance. At her side, the very empty pouch, rolled up tight below her waist, bounced against her hip; she laid a hand on it. The gorgons and behemoth were still going at it, she noticed. This meant they probably wouldn't bother her. Giving them a wide berth, she circled around a rock formation and toward a small grove of skinny trees and bushes tucked closer to one of the other formations. It was someplace she regularly went for both berries and flowers.

The only fruit here were small, oblong, marbled-orange-and-yellow citrus that hung in clusters. They weren't easy to reach from the ground; carefully putting the rock formation between her and the behemoth, she unhooked her rod and slung the hooks around. They snagged one bunch of fruit and tugged several pieces down. She picked them off the grass and tucked them into her pouch, gritting her teeth at the somewhat loud thump-thump-tick noises they made when they hit the ground.

Surrounding these spindly citrus trees were flowering bushes and berry thickets. Knowing she only had enough room for a few handfuls, she plucked the juiciest of the berries – marble-sized purple spheres that felt heavy in her hand and smelled extremely sweet – and tucked them in with the fruit.

"There!" Satisfied she'd gotten enough, she closed her pouch and stood, holstering her rod. "Now, home, so I can _finally_ get a good breakfast!"

Something howled menacingly then, startling her, and she stepped back from the rock formation, yanking out her rod again and unfurling it. Then something ran across the grass with thundering steps, and suddenly the gorgons and behemoth appeared five feet away from her, leaping several feet before the behemoth stopped, roared, and shook the gorgons free, stomping on them with large, clawed paws. The gorgons yelped and tried to run.

Vanille gasped and stumbled back. Time to leave!

As she turned to run, though, the behemoth seized a gorgon in its jaws and slung the body, knocking her over, where she landed hard and struggled to stand again. The rest of the gorgons bolted in all direction; the behemoth roared and turned to look directly at her, bloodied jaws snapping.

"Oh!" she cried, and faced it. If she ran, she looked even more like a prey animal. She had faced a big brown bear alone no long ago, so why not a behemoth?

Well, because behemoths were twice the size of bears, and she was completely alone.

The behemoth roared and reared up on its hind legs for a moment before slashing out, snarling and panting, stinking of blood and drool. Vanille squeaked and dodged, tumbling across the grass, rolling to stand, then whipping out the hooks and digging them into the beast's thick, leathery hide. The behemoth reacted by snapping at the wires and trying to rip them out. Vanille tore them out, whipped them around again, and slashed it across the eye. It roared in pain and stumbled blindly toward her.

A spear flashed out from her right and embedded in the creature's side; the behemoth, eyes stinging and blood dripping from its wounds, spun to face the new attacker and bellowed so loud that she had to cry out and cover her ears a moment. Through the tall grass came her mysterious, annoying companion from before, but this time he looked serious, dodging the animal's swipes to grab the spear and rip it out. Blood trailed behind it, and the beast clawed at him, forcing him to back away.

The huntress whipped out the hooks again, and this time, they embedded themselves in the hide near the tail, tearing several neat marks into the leather. The behemoth, confused now, looked between her and Caius, obviously trying to decide which to go after. Then, suddenly, it made up its mind, and it swung around, kicking out its hind legs at her while pawing at the hunter. Caius returned the favor by slashing at its face, then raising a hand and sending out a flash of purple energy that made the hide sizzle. Vanille gasped softly – he was a l'Cie?

Now smirking, he twirled the spear, reversed his grip, and made it flare with blue energy that sparked when it struck the creature's hide. It reeled from the impact.

Vanille growled, thinking she wasn't much good as a normal human to a l'Cie, but knowing she could still do a little good as lashed out again. The behemoth roared and kicked her, missing slightly, but one of the toes caught her and knocked her back, where she landed hard on her back, cushioned only by the thick, flowery grass. She struggled to catch her breath.

The beast roared, reared up on its hind legs again, and came down on Caius. He lost his balance and disappeared beneath the grass.

Vanille coughed. "Hey, _you_!" she shouted, and painfully climbed to her feet. "That's not nice! Stop that!"

The behemoth bent its head down.

"I said _stop that_!" Seething, she whipped the hooks around, this time using several quick movements to sink the hooks in, rip them out, change the angle, and embed them even deeper into one leg. The behemoth squealed and flopped onto its belly, looking as surprised as any behemoth had ever looked, and tried to stand, but she had a rhythm now, ignoring her sore and aching body, lashing out again and again instead, one after another, working to knock the animal down.

At last, she snagged a tendon and pulled on it, and the behemoth howled and went down on its side.

"Yes!" She reeled the hooks in and quickly picked out the pieces of flesh before slinging them around again. "Now it's time to say goodnight, you!"

As the hooks flew out for the beast's eye, Caius reappeared, slowly standing from where he'd landed, hefting his spear, then hesitating and looking at her. She pointedly ignored him, focusing on her work, and finally one of the hooks worked its way into the animal's eye. Blood spurted, the behemoth screeched in pain, and then the hooks were coming back with the eye now attached to one of them. The animal roared and spun around, clawing madly at the now-empty eye socket, now blind and more or less helpless.

She saw a smirk flash across the man's lips as he drove his spear into the skull and sent a blast of energy into it.

The behemoth yelped, twitched, convulsed, and lay still.

Vanille exhaled and made a face at the eye before delicately plucking it off the hook and tossing it aside. "Ah!" she said, and proudly returned the binding rod to its holster. "I guess that's what you get when you mess with me, huh? You won't do _that_ again, I bet!"

Caius looked like he was having a bit of trouble standing, slightly favoring one leg, but he otherwise seemed unhurt, looking at her carefully. There was a long minute of silence, and Vanille stared back at him, keeping a satisfied smirk on her lips and hands on her hips. Caius was big, dark, and obviously a powerful warrior – and, moreover, apparently a l'Cie – but he was also quite handsome, though she would never say that.

"I am impressed."

Vanille cocked an eyebrow. "Well, I guess that's something."

He hummed softly, glancing at the behemoth. "When I fell, you saved me. You might have even killed it. Downing a behemoth alone is difficult work. That you did it–" Looking back at her, he gave her a look that was both pleased and awed. "Well, Vanille, that _is_ impressive."

She giggled. "Oerbans don't live out by the wilds and get by being useless."

"There is nothing you cannot admire about the Oerbans," he said. "Since you helped down this creature, you are free to take half of the meat for yourself."

Vanille grinned and looked over the carcass. It was a sizable creature, bloody and scarred up, but the hide would be a wonderful thing to bring back to the tanner, not to mention everyone liked behemoth meat. The claws, fangs, bone, and organs could all be put to good use, too.

She'd come out to get a single gorgon, and walked away with half a behemoth.

"Well, thank you, Caius," she said, and again felt a surge of familiarity at saying that name. "This will certainly make things better for us. I'll never curse a boring day again, though, not after this." Still grinning, she looked back at him, then folded her arms. "So, I saved your life. Aren't you going to thank me?"

He stared at her. "I did."

"No, no, no. You said I _impressed_ you. _I_ want a _real_ thank you."

A thoughtful look crossed his features. "I see. Well, what could I do to assure you of my–" Pausing, he raised an eyebrow and placed a hand on his hip. "–gratitude?"

She jabbed a finger at him. "Nothing weird, gross, or scary." Pause. "You could always give me that spear."

He held it up. "I am rather attached to it."

She studied its wide, strangely-shaped blade and great length and figured it would just hang on a wall, anyway. "Oh, alright. Never mind, then." Sighing, she walked up beside him and bent with her hands on her knees to look over the animal. The hide was nicked and scarred all over, indicating that it was an older animal, but when she tested the texture, she found it still felt taut and strong. Smiling, she tugged on a claw. Everything was strong, and all of the pieces would be useful or fetch good prices on the open market.

And _she_ had helped down it.

"Vanille."

Hearing him say her name, she straightened and looked at him. "What?"

He surprised her by leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her forehead. Vanille felt her head swim and blinked rapidly, skin growing warm. She quickly realized it was because she was blushing, _hard_, having never been this close to any man before, especially not a great and powerful warrior like this. Making an embarrassed sound in her throat, she stared at him, and he smirked at her. The sight of it dissolved her embarrassment – it was the kind of smirk that was more annoying than anything; she shoved her fists in her hips.

"You will need others to help you carry the meat," he said. "I may be able to carve my half by myself."

Head clearing, she shrugged. "Well, I'll be back. Don't run off with _my_ half."

"I am a man of my word."

Well, hopefully, he was telling the truth. There was no way to tell for sure. In either case, she had to get the fruit back before it rotted or exploded in her pouch, and still needed to drag the gorgon back as well. It was time to move on – the sun, and the air, was starting to get very hot on her shoulders.

"By the way," she said, "where're you from?"

This time, when he looked at her, his eyes were solemn and lips a little tight. Vanille's heart sped up a little, feeling anxiety creep into her blood at the sight. Something was wrong. For some reason, that question had bothered him, and now, she wondered why. Would he tell her? Would he explain anything?

"I," he said, "am a Farseer."

Now, suddenly, she remembered where his name was from. "_You're_ Caius Ballad," she said in both awe and a little fear. "The great warrior. The one they say is an ancient soldier. The one all the legends revolve around." As she spoke, she felt her knees tremble a little as her hand felt for her binding rod. She had just been fighting alongside a man rumored to be a few centuries old, at least, who had faced great warriors and carved his name into history in the time it took most others to even be noticed by the rest of the world.

And _he_ had kissed _her_.

Vanille felt both terrified and pleasantly giddy.

"Yes, I am." The way he spoke sounded heavy, as though every word had a story attached to it, and, somewhere in his head, there were a thousand left unspoken. "Now, if you will pardon me, I must get to work." With his spear, he deftly used the end to start carving into the carcass.

Vanille walked back to Oerba, pausing only to pick up the gorgon she'd killed and drag it back to the village. It was busier now, and Fang was out on the shore, helping someone throw out a net. When she saw Vanille approach, she excused herself and grinned.

"Well, what do you know," she said, "you got one!"

Vanille blinked at her, then tugged her pouch free and handed it over. "Fruits and berries," she said.

Fang opened it and looked inside. "Nicely done, girl. Now we can have a proper breakfast." Hesitating, she looked back at the other woman. "Uh, hey, you look thoughtful. Somethin' on your mind?"

"Well–" Vanille shrugged. "I helped kill a behemoth. He gets one half and I get the other."

"A _behemoth_?" Fang laughed. "That's _amazing_! Who helped?"

Should she tell her friend the man's name? Now that she thought back, the kiss on her forehead had felt less like flirting and more… solemn, even protective, though there had been a small element of flirting to it from how it had lingered a moment. What was his story? Was he really as old as people said, or were those all just stories? And was it really best to tell Fang everything that had happened?

"Oh, someone." Vanille shrugged. "Can you help me carve it up? We need to get it back before it gets picked clean."

"Sure thing." Fang frowned at her, but didn't press the matter, for now. "I'll go get some help."


End file.
